He’s a more refined version of the original, with different colored hair and eyes, and unearthly speed and strength, and fangs.
“Your Highness.” I draw on every last shred of my self-control to keep from shaking. I don’t want him to see how angry I am. “Is that the kind of man you are? That you would allow us to pass through your treacherous lands with not even an escort to meet us at the border, and then you have the indecency to take advantage of me like that?”
He shakes his head, a puff of exasperation escaping his lips. “If I had known you were coming, I would have met you at the border myself. I suspect you had little choice in the matter, but whoever told you to make this trip in the middle of winter is a complete and utter fool. Your sudden appearance caught me completely unaware. A bad idea, with my current state.” Corvan Duthriss’s voice turns dangerously quiet. “Was your father behind this, Finley?”
I bite my tongue, knowing very well that he has father locked up in his dungeon. “I-I don’t understand. You mean to tell me that you didn’t know I was coming?”
“I did not.”
“How is that possible? It was all arranged. The emperor himself approved it.”
“Apparently, he did. But I had no inkling of it whatsoever until you turned up in the middle of the road, flogging that poor horse like you were trying to outrun the Seven Furies themselves.”
“I was desperate.”
“I know. You did the right thing, Finley. You’re just fortunate I was the first person you came across.” His expression softens. “Who knows? Maybe fate had a hand in it.”
Fate? I want to scream, but I hold myself still. You bloody bastard, you bit me!
Instead, I lean forward, turning my body so I’m facing him, clasping my hands together and squeezing hard so I don’t do anything reckless. I have to admit, despite his fearsome reputation, the archduke’s handling of the situation has been quite… measured.
He isn’t what I’d expected at all.
“If I may dare to ask, what happened to you, Your Highness?” I’m taking a big risk, but I need to know. Otherwise, the situation will become untenable.
He’s already driving me crazy as it is.
He looks away; through the windows, toward the winter sky, his eyes turning hard and crystalline, like rubies. I can’t believe this is the same man that led a formidable army against the barbarian hordes; against arcane monsters and undead creatures.
If not for him…
What would have happened to Rahava and its citizens?
“After a terrible battle, I was lying in the snow, mortally wounded. That day, I died and went to Hecoa’s underworld,” he says quietly, turning to look me in the eye. My heart goes still. A strange feeling overtakes me; I want to both succumb to his magnetic pull, and flee. “But she refused to let me in. Instead, she gave me a drop of her being and sent me back. That’s what I saw in my death-dream, anyway. If it was a dream. When I woke up, I was like this. Perfectly healed and no longer quite mortal. Strange-looking and somewhat cursed. It took a long time for me to understand what had happened.” He pauses. When he looks up again, his eyes are filled with shadows. “Have you ever heard of vampires, Finley?”
Vampires…
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, that is what I am. It isn’t common knowledge, but magical transformations do happen from time to time. Rahavans are intentionally kept in the dark about magic and such things. There’s scant literature on my kind, and I’ve never met another like me in the flesh. Goddess forbid that I might. I thirst for human blood and I no longer enjoy the warmth of the sun. I’m far stronger and faster than any human. My hearing and sight are impossibly sharp. As you can see, my eyes and hair have changed, and my complexion has become insufferably pale.”
I think you’re beautiful, I almost blurt. He’s wrapped up in bitterness and anger, and he’s beautiful.
I remember Kaithar’s words. Underneath everything… he’s got a good heart, and that’s why he’s got a healthy little fear of what he’s become.
It’s little wonder he’s become a recluse.
How would the Rahavan Court react to Prince Corvan Duthriss as he is now?
“Your Highness.” I tip my head respectfully. “There are many things that exist beyond the borders of the empire that we don’t understand. I know that magic exists. There are monsters and mythical creatures in the mountains and across the Valbergian Sea. And sometimes I feel that our world here in Rahava… is so very, very small. I can’t even begin to comprehend what could have happened to you, but I know what you did for my brother…”
And you stopped father, when nobody else has ever dared.
And men like Kaithar and Vinciel remain loyal to you.
So I think… that Kaithar might be right, after all.
As quickly as it appeared, his openness disappears, hidden behind a many-layered mask. “It’s Corvan. Just Corvan. There’s no need for such formality, Finley. We’re betrothed, after all.”
“You aren’t going to dispute the arrangement?””
He gives me a strange look, his eyes filled with sudden intensity. “No.”
“My father’s only a baron. A recently made one, at that. Surely you would want to seek a bride more fitting of your station.”
Corvan peels himself from the wall and approaches, his movements fluid, his feet perfectly silent on the stone floor, even though he’s wearing leather boots. “Is that what you’d prefer? It almost sounds like you’re trying to dissuade me.”
“N-no, that wasn’t my intention. I was honestly just curious.” I’m taken aback by his question. What do I really want?
I’ve never been given the luxury of choice.
He sits down on the other end of the couch, leaning back, one arm draped along the armrest. I can make out the sculpted muscles of his arms through the thin fabric of his shirt. The first few buttons are undone, offering me a glimpse of his smooth, hard chest.
The man exudes raw physicality. He carries an undeniable aura of power, even when he’s dressed so unpretentiously.
At least one of my hopes came true.
My husband-to-be is indeed pleasing to look at.
No; he’s more than that. He’s perfection, even in his changed form.
I swallow the lump in my throat and cross my legs. That fluttering is still there; in my chest… growing warmer, slipping between my thighs.
He leans forward. “Finley,” he says softly; slowly, shaping my name with his deep, resonant voice. “I couldn’t care less about titles or status. I have enough wealth that marrying for it would be pointless. And to be perfectly honest, I find most of those that have been raised in the bubble of the Rahavan Court to be insufferable. But you… aren’t.”
“So… you do wish to proceed with this… our arranged betrothal.”
One pale eyebrow arches in amusement. “Does the notion really seem so terrible to you?”